


i'll use you as a warning sign

by bluesunflower44



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bloodbender Katara (Avatar), Bloodbending (Avatar), Dark Katara (Avatar), F/M, Minor Sokka/Suki, Song: I Found (Amber Run), no i didn't tear up while reading my own story why do you ask, not enough proofreading to brag about, this is going to go exactly the way you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesunflower44/pseuds/bluesunflower44
Summary: He does not think. He only acts, but his actions andthe way he does themsay everything.All she does anymore is think. She questions everything,wondersabout everything.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	i'll use you as a warning sign

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to I Found (and the babble of a dentist's office but that's not important) and...this happened.
> 
> If you like to listen to music while reading, I would suggest [I Found by Amber Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA) and/or [Carry You by Ruelle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ek9n7B14w8). That's what I listened to while writing this.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: blood, murder/death, mentions of self-harm
> 
> enjoy?

He walks down, down into the draftiest part of the compound, where no sunlight reaches the prisoners. For most inmates, this is the ultimate punishment - firebenders waste away without the sun. But for the prisoner he is meeting today, this is not the case.

* * *

He walks straight, straight past the cell where a girl is curled into the fetal position. A girl - his sister. The world used to know her as the greatest firebender of their time, the most skilled strategist of their time, and then the girl who lost her mind. But all of those titles have been stolen from her, just as her future was. The first was passed to her brother, the second was passed to another brother, this one a nonbender, and the third now belongs to the prisoner he is meeting today.

* * *

He turns left, left next to the cell where his predecessor once sat and spat and raged. The previous Fire Lord, the Phoenix King for too long a time (and he knows, some today would still argue too short a time), the first man to have his bending removed by the Avatar. He wonders if the prisoner he is meeting today will be the first woman to have her bending removed by the Avatar.

* * *

He stands tall, tall in front of the girl who had stolen his heart, before going on to stop other hearts with nothing but a curl of her fingers. He holds a small flame in his palm to see her better and immediately regrets it. She sits in front of the wall, facing away from him, with her head bowed. The guards say this is the only position she’s ever found in. She makes no move to recognize his presence, but she knows he is here. She must. How can she not, when she once told him, so many years ago (only 4 years ago), that she is acutely aware of every drop of water and blood around her, every living being within at least a 20-mile radius? But she doesn’t turn to face him. So, despite himself and everything he knows about her, the name of the prisoner he is meeting today spills out from his mouth as a whispered prayer.

“Katara.”

* * *

* * *

She faintly questions how there is blood crusted underneath her nails. She never touches blood; she never has to. She remembers that it’s her own. From days upon days (40 days; crescent scars on her body help keep count) of digging into her skin to find something she can still control. A pool of blood sits in between her crossed legs and the wall. Her plaything. She’ll twist it, freeze it, turn it into a dagger. The dagger never goes anywhere. She occasionally contemplates getting rid of the guards with it, but they have stopped coming close to her cell. She paints with it too. She wonders how much she has in common with the Painted Lady now.

* * *

She doesn’t try to escape. She will, one day, and she will be successful. But it is not the time yet. She was never a very patient person, but she supposes things change with time. In her mind’s eye, she travels back four years to see her fourteen-year-old self standing next to her brother and the world’s savior, and wonders what she would have thought of her current situation.

* * *

On the days she plays with Azula’s blood to challenge herself, she laughs. She laughs at how fate unwinds. People used to praise her for being the same age as Azula, a prodigy like Azula, someone forced to grow up too fast because of a war like Azula, but still staying good, unlike Azula. _Good_ . What a paltry concept ‘being good’ is, she thinks. In a world where Ozai won, would Azula have been considered _good_ ? Of course she would have. She would have been venerated. What about the waterbender? All her actions had been rooted in sense and protective intent. She wonders if anyone will venerate her, if anyone will still call her _good_.

* * *

She’s had visitors. The young boy who pushes gruel into her cell and then sprints away as fast as his little legs can manage; he counts, right? She had tried to tell him once that she would never hurt him, but as soon as she turned to face him, his eyes had rolled back in his head and he had dropped to the ground. Of course, everyone had assumed it was her fault, and there was no use in trying to convince them otherwise. They kept sending the poor child to give her food anyway and it made her think that maybe everyone was a little sick in the head. Only a few people (not enough; she had been fixing that) were punished for it.

Sokka had visited her too. He hadn’t fainted when she turned around, but his eyes had bugged out. She had giggled a little, but that only served to scare Sokka further. He had tightened his arms around his wife, and for an awful moment, she had hated the Kyoshi Warrior. How come Suki was there to comfort Sokka while she wasn’t? Then she remembered that no comfort would have been needed if not for her, and she had offered Suki a grateful smile. She had hoped her smile would say everything she couldn’t ( _thank you for being there for him, Suki; take care of yourself and your baby; I’m sorry I won’t be there to help you deliver_ ) but Suki had shut her eyes tight. 

She wanted to yell ( _I’m still Katara, the same Katara you knew! The same Katara who saw a problem and needed to fix it! The same Katara who would do anything to protect her friends! What did you think anything meant? I did this for you, so that your child would grow up in a better world! Why can’t you see that?_ ) but she remained silent until the couple left. She had cried that day. She hadn’t cried much at all since starting her quest to bring people to justice, but seeing the fear in her brother and best friend’s eyes, and knowing that she had put that fear there, was enough to change that.

Toph had visited a few days later. She had been wearing shoes. She had been assured that she would only hear the truth from the older girl and was there anything she wanted to know? Toph had been silent for a very long time before saying one, heartbreaking comment: _I used to look up to you_ . She left shortly after and Katara had opened her mouth to say the lines that came so naturally to her ( _take care of your feet; make sure you take a bath; be kind to Aang; I love you_ ) but she knew it wasn’t her place anymore. She hadn’t cried that day. She had only punched the wall again and again until her knuckles and fingers were soaked with blood and sweat.

No one came back a second time. Her father and others she had come to think of as family do not visit at all.

Nor does the Avatar.

She wonders if he doesn’t visit because he’s afraid of what he might do to her or because of what she might do to him.

* * *

Just like everyone else, she feels him before she hears him. His heart rate increases as his blood comes closer to her, and her chapped lips split into a broken grin. She had been wondering when he would visit her; for it had always been a question of _when_ , and not _if_ . When she sees the shadow cast by her thin frame on the wall in front of her because of the flame he has lit, she closes her eyes. When she hears her name, it’s a shock and sends a shiver through her spine. How long has it been since she heard those three syllables instead of whispers of _the waterbender_ or _the bloodbender_ or even just _the threat_? Too long. Still, she does not face him. She doesn’t know if she can. Or if he really wants her to.

“Katara. I don’t understand. Katara, talk some sense to me. Katara...please.” It’s the _please_ that moves her, the choked _please_ that makes her bones shift and her neck twist. She doesn’t open her eyes as she turns to face him. It’s only after a few minutes, during which she hears no gasp or shriek or thud that comes after someone faints, that she can open her eyes and look upon the man she loved - loves. Once upon a time, he looked at her like she painted the moon, the stars, and the sun into the sky. She wonders what he sees in her now.

* * *

* * *

He stands breathless, breathless in front of the prisoner. She is beautiful. That’s the only thought in his head. With her piercing blue eyes that have not dulled at all, the swirls of red adorning her lips, cheeks, and eyelids, and the Water Tribe’s Mark of the Brave on her forehead, she is a blessing on his tired eyes. He has never put much stock in the idea of gods. The idea that someone else controls his fate and he is just a puppet irks him; he, who has had to fight for everything good in his life. But at this moment, he thinks he is looking at a spirit, a goddess. He can’t remember what he was supposed to see in this cell - a murderer, a monster, a girl who has lost her way - but he decides it doesn’t matter as he kneels in front of her, with one hand still upturned, holding the flame, and the other over top of the scar he took for the woman he loved - loves. 

* * *

* * *

She’s shaking. He is bowing to her and she cannot stop shaking. How long ago was it that she had wondered if anyone would venerate her? She never actually wanted it. She wants respect, she craves understanding, but she cannot cope with someone, especially not him, placing her on a pedestal. She only did what she thought, no, what she _knew_ was right.

“Do you remember the story of Hama?” The flame jumps when she speaks. Her voice is clear, despite being out of commission for six weeks now.

“Of course.”

“Was she the victim or the villain?” He looks up at this, but at some point next to her shoulder. He won’t look her in the eye. This infuriates her. He does not answer. “Was she the victim or the villain, Zuko?” As her lips curve to form the second syllable of his name, he looks her in the eye, and if she wasn’t already sitting, she would have been knocked to the floor by the intensity of his look. She doesn’t look away.

“I am not certain.”

“Aren’t you? Isn’t it so easy to call her the villain? She took away people’s free will! Isn’t that heinous?”

“It is,” but his reply is hesitant. This scares her, although she does not show it; she has never, ever known Zuko to be without total conviction of his statements and actions.

“It is. And it _would_ be easy to call her the villain if we did not know why she did what she did. But we do. Do you remember why she started bloodbending?”

“Yes.”

“She was taken away from her home. Imprisoned, tortured, starved. Everyone knows what happens to women in prisons. She needed to escape, and so she did. Is she still the villain? Is trying to survive another day a crime?”

“No. But that’s not why you started bloodbending, Katara. You atta-”

“Are you not scared?” He is still looking her in the eye, unflinchingly, while the flame on his palm bounces up and down.

“No.” At his resolute answer, she slides over to the front of her cell on her knees, until the only thing separating them is the door of her cell. She’s not quite sure what the point of the cold metal bars is, since she’s lost so much weight she could fit her whole face through the spaces in between them.

“Why not? You don’t think I’ll bloodbend you?”

“I know you won’t.” She grins at that. Stupid, trusting, brave Zuko.

“I’ve done it to your sister. The guards don’t even suspect me, interestingly enough. They think it’s just her throwing another fit. Some shoddy security you have here, Fire Lord.” He does flinch at this.

“Why?” His question is soft, and she thinks that just a year ago, it would have made her curl up into a ball of regret. Today, however, she has no such emotions.

“She deserved it.”

“She’s doing her penance, Katara. She’s here, unable to generate lightning or even firebend because she doesn’t have the stability and it’s been years since she’s felt the sun’s powers.”

“She deserves that too.”

“And what do you deserve?” This question is harsh and cold, but underneath that, she can sense his fear. Not of her, which is novel, but of what she’ll say. Of what she’ll admit to, of what she’ll resign herself to. He should know by now that she is not one for resignation.

“Respect. I deserve respect and understanding.”

“You’re a murderer, Katara. People have died by your hand.” She wonders if he wants her to deny it.

* * *

* * *

He speaks quietly, quietly in front of the girl whose presence could command an entire ship full of prisoners and rouse them into fighting for their freedom. Even as he calls her what she is, he does not believe it. His brain and mouth are not working in synchronicity. A murderer. Katara? No. She is a healer, a nurturer, a mother figure, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a confidant, a lover...but not a murderer. Her hands heal, they feed, they soothe. They touch his scars and make him feel whole again. They do not, can not, strike people, crush hearts, stop blood flow. It’s not possible.

“I am aware. And that makes me a villain, yes?”

“Yes.” He wants to fall at her feet, beg for forgiveness, promise her he’ll never call her a villain again because she’s Katara. His Katara. And this is just a nightmare. The longest nightmare he’s ever had, but he’ll wake up. He’ll wake up in her arms, and she’ll tell him that everything’s okay, and-

“Right. Because it’s very easy to call me the villain when no one knows why I did what I did. No one really cares either. Everyone thinks I’ve lost my mind, don’t they? They think I’m more insane than Azula.”

I care, he wants to say. Tell me why, tell me everything, and I will protect you. No one will dare to tarnish your name, even in the privacy of their thoughts. Please, Katara.

“They do,” he says instead. Her eyes are full of mirth and her lips are curved into a smile, but it’s not malicious at all. It’s girlish and sends his heart aflutter. It’s not the look of a killer.

“That’s alright.” No! No, it’s not! He is shouting, begging her to understand that he needs her by his side and how can she be there when she’s stuck in this awful prison, but he’s doing all of that inside his head. Outwardly, his face doesn’t change.

“Why did you do it, Katara? Why did you kill them?” Damn his voice for being so soft and weak. But the last time he spoke any other way to this girl was when they fought in the North Pole. Is it bad that he prefers that time to his present? He would rather interact with her in the freezing cold, with both of them hurtling whips made out of their respective elements at each other, than in this damp, musty prison that could never be worthy of holding a celestial being like her.

“I did it for us.” His stomach clenches and he tosses the flame into his other hand.

“What do you- how could you think- what does that-” He’s not sure what he wants to ask, but nothing makes sense, so there must be a question that will clear everything up. If only he could string together the words.

“I did it for us. For Sokka and Suki and their child. For Toph. For Aang and all that he has to fight. For the Southern Water Tribe and the people of the Fire Nation. For you.” Of course, even her motivations for murder are selfless. But he still doesn’t understand.

* * *

* * *

She has never thought of Zuko as daft or someone to not do his homework. So what was his excuse for not putting it all together?

“Every single person I...took care of was a threat. A threat to you, a threat to your nation, a threat to the world, a threat to this tenuous peace we have worked so hard to cultivate. Every single person. I did my research. Not a single innocent was harmed.” She latches onto the bars in front of her and the cold metal stings the cuts on her palms. 

“If that’s true,” he started, and her nose flared; how dare he insinuate she’s lying, “if that is true, why couldn’t you have just told me? Or Sokka, or Aang, or anyone? We have a justice system exactly for this purpose. You didn’t have to- to go out there and be a- a serial killer.”

She laughs and the flame dims. “A serial killer? Is that my new title? Master Waterbender, world-renowned healer, teacher, war hero, Global Ambassador of Peace, bloodbender, nut case, serial killer. And what justice system, Zuko? Are you, by any chance, talking about the justice system that decided to not execute Ozai, a tyrant and war criminal, because the Avatar, at the wizened age of 12, made a decision? The justice system that deems people, like your own sister, as mentally ill, but then provides no resources to help them? The justice system that rules to execute Sen Lai with no substantial evidence but lets Gon Fe walk free? The justice system that is shaky at best, because for the past hundred years, it’s been making decisions that only help the rich and the awful? That justice system? I couldn’t just sit silently while guilty people roam the streets and terrorize the innocent! I couldn’t let our children grow up in a world like that!” She’s nearly shouting by the end, but she doesn’t care, because out of everyone, she expected Zuko to know. To understand. But no matter, because she can see the gears turning in Zuko’s head. He’s starting to see what she saw. She wonders if it’s too little too late.

* * *

* * *

He thinks selfishly, selfishly in front of the woman who has done nothing her whole life but put others ahead of herself. Because she just screamed ‘our children’ like it was a given and now he can’t do anything except envision a world where they are standing hand in hand, with their children playing in front of them, free of fears. Children that would grow up safe, never having to worry about surviving the week. 

He’s selfish. Katara is in prison, people are dead, families are mourning, and all he can think about is how he can still make Katara the Fire Lady. He’s sure others with a criminal record have become part of the royal family. He can do it, he’ll find a way.

He is snapped back to the present by the air quickly cooling around him. He doesn’t understand why she would want to make it colder. He looks into her eyes as if they hold the answers, because they always have. But this time when he looks at her, he realizes there is a lot he doesn’t understand about the person he loves more than anything in the world. It makes him feel lost, and he wants nothing more right now than to feel found and at home, so he puts out the flame and grabs her chin.

* * *

* * *

She kisses him back, because what else would she do? This is all she’s wanted for so long. ‘Zuko understands’ is the refrain playing through her mind on loop, and she is jubilant. He understands, he understands, he understands! Everything will be okay now. She reaches through the bars to grab his shoulders and pull him closer, while he does the same with her waist. She has missed him so much. So, so much. When they finally separate, she aligns her forehead with his.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” is the reply she’s wanted for forty-two days, and she finally gets it. But it’s a strangled reply and she pulls away.

“Zuko, make a flame.” He doesn’t. He holds her waist tighter. With all her strength and reluctance, she pries his fingers off of her. “Zuko. Make a flame.”

His hands light up and she sees the tears leaking out of closed eyes and trailing their way down his face. It cuts her deep because now she knows. He doesn't understand. He isn’t seeing things the way she is and it feels like betrayal. She stands up, with all the righteous fury of a girl who has been betrayed twice by the man she loves.

“I thought you understood! I thought you were seeing sense!” He stands up too, shakily and with eyes still squeezed shut. She wonders why no one seems to be able to look her in the eyes these days.

* * *

* * *

He is quaking, quaking in front of the person who has always been his strength, his rock. “Katara. What is there to understand? You are still a murderer, no matter how...noble your intentions were. But I will fight for you. I will make sure everyone knows why you did what you did. People will see you as a hero once again and you can just reform the system, instead of…” He makes the mistake of opening his eyes. She believes his words as much as he does, which is to say not at all, after the line, “I will fight for you.” Because he will. He already knows that no matter what happens, he will spend the rest of his life fighting for Katara. But he cannot promise her anything else and it makes him livid. What kind of sinner was he in his last birth for everything to go so spectacularly wrong in this one? And then he realizes something else.

With her blue eyes blinking up at him and defiance radiating off of her, he figures out that she intends to escape. He wonders if he’ll be able to let her go.

He won’t. At least when she’s here, he doesn’t need to worry about her safety. He won’t survive knowing that she’s out there, fighting (turning?) evil and living on a dagger’s edge. He loves her too much.

* * *

* * *

Zuko turns away from her silently, clenching his fist that does not hold a flame. He walks out of the prison without a falter in his step, but she can feel his heart racing. She knows he’s figured out she plans on leaving, escaping, surviving, whatever they wanted to call it when she finally made her way out of here. She must, because her work is not done. The innocent, the common people - they already respect and understand her. They likely don’t appreciate her methods, but that is irrelevant. She’s doing this for them now because the future she had once been fighting for has just turned to dust in front of her eyes. 

She wonders if he’ll let her go when the time comes. She wonders why he couldn’t love her enough.

**Author's Note:**

> well. if you think i need to add other trigger warnings/up the rating, let me know.  
> as far as the writing itself goes, i'd love to hear your thoughts! good or bad, leave them below :)  
> feeling super emotional so I may draw art for this. we'll see.  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
